The Last Ritual

Marion Strobel

Let us forget awhile—or may
We not drift into yesterday
And play?—

Forget for a moment years
Crowded with shuddering fears,
With tears?

Lift high your hands again, and try
To be a thrush, to touch the sky,
To fly.

Dance down a sunbeam ray, bright
Like the day tossed from the night
To light.

Laugh to the flowers, that you
Colored the sunshine anew
With dew.

Whisper to me youth was so—
You too remember and know—
Then go.